All those banners and logos are mostly at the airport and downtown or over at Ford Field, where the Steelers and the Seahawks will play Sunday in the N.F.L.'s latest thank-you to the corporate automakers who buy all those television commercials you see during games.

But go almost anywhere else and look around. There are no banners and no logos in the real Detroit, where real people live and work, the real Detroit that will reappear when all those banners and logos disappear and when all the celebrities and visitors disappear, too; the real Detroit that shivered when the Ford Motor Company and General Motors announced recently that each would cut about 30,000 jobs over the next few years.

Go west to dreary Miller Road in Dearborn and the Ford Rouge plant, where trucks roll off the assembly line, where there are no Super Bowl XL banners or logos. No celebrities, either. Just real people wondering if their jobs are in jeopardy.

"We kind of coexist with one another," Jerry Sullivan, the president of Local 600, United Auto Workers, said yesterday while behind his desk in the nearby union hall. He was alluding to the auto manufacturers that dominate Detroit's economy. "The companies are facing monumental issues."

"The people here need an uplift like the Super Bowl," Sullivan said, "but the Super Bowl and our members are in different worlds."

Sullivan won't be going to any of the celebrity parties in the downtown area near General Motors' glassy corporate tower.

"That's for the rich folk," he said, smiling, "but we're going to have our own little Super Bowl party here the night of the game for our families, a couple hundred people. Nothing fancy. Finger food, a little beer and soda. No liquor."

Go another 40 miles west to Saline, Mich., where Kris von Broda, an auto parts worker, was having a lunchtime beer with pizza in a booth in J D's Sports Bar and Pizzeria.

"You wonder," she said, "if they are overplaying the Super Bowl here in order to downplay what's happening in the industry."

She works the 11:30 p.m. to 8 a.m. shift making instrument panels and consoles in the long, low gray plant once known as Visteon but, according to its roadside sign, is now Automotive Components Holdings, L.L.C.

"But our paychecks," von Broda said, "say 'Ford Motor Company.' "

Her husband, David, helps manufacture forklifts in the plant. Her father and her husband's father also worked there, and she said her sons, Ian and Kristopher, each applied for jobs there.

An error has occurred. Please try again later.

You are already subscribed to this email.

Like everyone in the Detroit area, von Broda was aware of how the city had been promoting the return of the Super Bowl for the first time since the 1982 game at the suburban Pontiac Superdome, where Joe Montana led the San Francisco 49ers to a 26-21 victory over the Cincinnati Bengals.

She mentioned that temporary layoffs at the plant had occurred every other week in recent months, and she feared more layoffs before the union contract expires next year.

"More layoffs," she said, "will cripple this area."

She mentioned Henry Ford's promise, almost a century ago, to pay his workers enough so they could buy the car they were making then, a Model T.

"But if they cut wages and cut benefits," von Broda said, "we won't have enough to afford to buy the cars we produce."

And if you go over to Detroit's Eastside, near a Daimler-Chrysler plant beyond the United Auto Workers headquarters on Jefferson Avenue, you won't see any Super Bowl XL banners or logos. You'll just see real people like Roosevelt Hendrix, a body-shop worker.

"That's i-x, like Jimi," he said.

He was holding a bagful of takeout from a hot-dog emporium and talking about how the Super Bowl provided out-of-towners an opportunity to discover Detroit all over again, even with the automakers' planned cutbacks.

"It's a virgin city," he said. "It has so many things people don't know. It's one of the cheapest cities to live in, to get an apartment, the price of living."

Hendrix doesn't need the downtown Super Bowl parties. He's putting on his own party near the corner of Jefferson and Mount Elliott, a barbecue cookout every night, including Sunday, from 6 p.m. to midnight.

"Come and have a slab of ribs," he said. "I'm the ribologist. And bring some of them Super Bowl XL banners."

Sports of The Times Correction: February 4, 2006, Saturday A Sports of The Times column on Wednesday about the return of the Super Bowl to the Detroit area during tough times for the auto industry misstated the name of the stadium in suburban Pontiac, Mich., where the game was played in 1982. It is the Silverdome, not the Superdome.